Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter.
Chapter 2
Harry gave a large groan as he woke up with eyes still closed. He blinked blearily with his head still on the floor; rubbing his eyes in a drained manner as blinding white light flooded his senses, penetrating even through his eyelids. When he grudgingly opened his eyes, he saw nothing but a gentle illumination of omnipresent light that seemed to originate from all around him in every direction, softly hitting him.
After a few seconds, the irises in his pupils instinctively contracted to adjust for the amount of light. Still dazed, he used his palms to push his body off the ground at he stared at his surroundings in wonder, not even noticing that all the pain was gone.
He seemed to be at a carbon copy of the King's Cross Station, at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters specifically. Everything looked the same, even down to the ancient cracks and crumbs of the yellowing bricks that arched and lined the station in seemingly never-ending layers.
The Hogwarts Express lay on the train tracks in all its glory, its head end painted in a shimmering black while the rest of the body was took on a deep garnet hue. He stood transfixed, as white smoke lazily curled in wisps out of the chimney and breezed into the sky where they were soon lost.
Nostalgic memories flooded back as he realized this was the place where his life had properly begun. This was the place where he escaped the hell of the Dursleys. This place was his first proper induction into the world of magic, to a world of adventure, mystery, romance, friends – and family.
Harry nearly jumped out of his skin as his trance was broken by the screams of a wailing baby. With curiosity and befuddlement as to what was happening, he gravitated towards the noise and knelt down on the stone surface as he gazed upon the ugliest baby he had ever seen, curled up beneath one of the benches in the train station crying its heart out.
The infant was grotesque in every manner known to man. Misshapen and contorted, it was truly an abomination; it was entirely covered in patches of blood and was so emaciated you could count every bone in the body. The face looked old and young as the same time, as certain features in its face set alarms off in Harry mind, but he could not recall or identify what it resembled.
As he stared at the hideous sight, he failed to hear someone approach softy from behind as the cries from the baby drowned out everything else.
"He is a part of you, you know."
The cries stopped immediately as the baby raised his unnatural head and glared over Harry's shoulder with palpable hatred at the presence of the new arrival.
Harry gasped as he whirled around and recognized the silver bushy beard of his headmaster.
"Professor Dumbledore!"
Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, stood behind him in grand purple robes, adorned with miniature moons and sparkling stars stitched into the fabric that seemed to dance in the light. He ignored the greeting and continued as if Harry never spoke.
"Look at the baby closely Harry, what can you see, what can you sense."
Harry glanced back down at the quiet baby as it stared angrily at Albus. He noticed that the eyes, a brilliant red, now carried so much hatred, so much loathing, and so much fear.
As his scar gave a small twinge, it all clicked.
"Voldemort," He whispered in disgust as he looked at Albus for confirmation.
Albus' sky blue eyes twinkled as he gave a confirmatory nod, the moon-spectacled glasses on his nose bouncing in response to the action.
Finally, the mist cleared in Harry's mind could think clearly for the first time since he arrived in this bizarre place.
"Am… am I dead?" Harry stammered as looked down and carefully patted down his body realizing that all his wounds had vanished, the pain taken along with them.
Albus' heavenly blue eyes lost their twinkle. His face grew mournful as he gave a great sigh, his aura of invincibility absent as he now just looked like a tired old man yearning for a respite from all hardships and responsibly.
"You were not supposed to die so soon Harry, but somehow you have overruled the iron fist of fate itself."
"So I'm dead? What has fate got to do this this?" Harry replied with bewilderment, looking down in confusion as the cogs and gears in his brain started whirling.
Blood rushed in his ears as he tilted his face upwards in dismay, looking straight at Albus while he started rambling.
"Wait… that means you are dead too? You were alive just a few days ago, how did you die?! What is-…"
"My dear boy, I am not dead," Albus softly answered.
"Fate itself has forced my presence to be here. The threads of fate are now mangled, and are slowly but surely causing a chain reaction of catastrophic consequences."
"With my presence as Headmaster gone and your death now publically known, Voldemort is taking over the wizarding world as we speak, killing all that disobey him," Albus finished, his eyes strangely bright with emotion.
Harry stared at him in shock, "Please tell me you're lying," He whispered as his breath hitched and as he started swaying on the spot.
A forlorn look from Albus' lifeless eyes was all he needed.
He shook his head in wild disbelief as he started pacing up and down agitatedly; hands tearing at his hair as he internally ruminated. The weight of the world had just crashed down upon his young shoulders.
No, no, NO… this wasn't supposed to happen. I could have saved everyone. This is my entire fault. If I could start over I would not make the same mistakes twic-…
"You could you know," Albus said quietly as he interrupted Harry train of thought.
"Could what?"
"Start over."
"But I was thinking that, how could yo-…"
"Perhaps it is not my place to tell" Albus murmured as he interrupted Harry for a second time, the idiosyncratic twinkle returning with full force, giving life to his tired eyes.
Albus was about to elucidate the situation to Harry until a strange force started pulling him at his hands. Looking down, he noticed his hands had a slightly transparent appearance, like the shimmer of fine gossamer fabric.
"I'm sorry Harry, but it looks the time is up for me. It has been an absolute joy knowing you and I want you to know I had never intended for you to be unhappy or hurt." As Albus was talking, the strange glittering was slowly spreading to his entire body.
"I'm just an old man who has made a lot of mistakes," Albus quietly finished, as he walked over to Harry and placed a gentle translucent hand on his shoulder while giving a genuine and warm smile, which made Harry gave one in return.
As his whole body started to shimmer and fade away, a ghostly voice whispered in his last moments, "Don't worry… someone else will be here for you before you leave. Farewell my dear boy."
"ALBUS!" Harry frantically yelled as he tried to grab the wispy remnants of his headmaster in the air.
He wasn't sure if it was a trick of the light, but the last thing he saw was a ghostly face that looked both wise and gentle, wink at him before vanishing into thin air.
Harry was no ordinary teenage boy; he was a fighter and a survivor with a hero complex that no force on earth could extinguish. But there could be only so much emotional stress a teenage boy could handle before he broke.
He dropped to his knees, tears flowing as he cried for the first time in years. He thought of all the people that died because of him, families losing their fathers, mothers, son and daughters in a futile struggle against the tide of destruction that was Voldemort.
His grief was so intense that he missed the arrival of another person shimmering into existence.
"Hey pup, you missed me that much?" A voice next to him said, with unrestrained laughter in the voice.
Harry stilled for a second as his emotions ran high, and slowly turned around to face the voice of a man he would never forget.
"SIRIUS!" Harry screamed, with tears still in his eyes as he got up and rushed over to fiercely hug the man he considered his father.
The reason he loved Sirius so much was because when someone tried to befriend him, they were always befriending him because he was The-Boy-Who-Lived, or because he was the heir to the ancient Potter legacy or some other trivial reason. Sirius was the first person to befriend and love him for being just Harry.
Sirius looked the same as the last time he saw him. Wavy black hair that extended to his shoulders gleamed naturally in the light as he wore a brown and striped overcoat over a dark blue shirt, complemented by long and frayed black pants.
Sirius returned the hug with full force before pulling back to look at Harry with tender grey eyes, full with love for his godson.
"Before I start, there are certain people that you need to meet. We've been discussing all the trouble and mischief you've been up to for quite some time now," Sirius said as his eyes sparkled with excitement as he ruffled Harry's clothes to make him look more presentable.
Stepping back, he moved to the side to let Harry catch sight of the two people waiting behind him, a man and woman whom he loved as much as he did Harry.
Harry glanced at the two figures and froze as a rush of emotions surged through him, diluting every fibre of his being. The blood drained from his face as his legs refused to work properly. He lurched as he took staggered steps forward, with a trembling arm stretched out in front of him, as if to grasp something precious.
Back in his fourth year he only saw the ghostly figures of this man and woman. This seemed so much more real than in the fourth year of with his duel with Voldemort. This seemed like they were here with him.
"Mom… Dad?" Harry weakly breathed as he stumbled towards them, every instinct clouded over.
The most beautiful woman Harry had ever laid eyes on looked at him through bright green eyes with an intensity that if any stronger, would be capable of burning a hole right through him. Standing next to her was an older and more rugged version of him, hazel eyes glinting with love and mischief as they both held out their arms to their only son.
"My baby boy."
"Son."
When he finally reached them, he collapsed into both their arms, sobbing as he felt a strange type of love that he had never experienced before rise up within him like an unquenchable fire. He tightened his grip on his parents and knew whatever the future would bring, this moment would be a memory he would never ever forget.
"So what you're saying is, I was supposed to die next year and I've messed up because I died prematurely? And you're also saying that fate needs me to fix the mess I have created or else there are dire consequences?" Harry slowly repeated as he stared at his parents, James and Lily Potter, in disbelief.
Harry, Sirius and his parents had been catching up for the past few hours and they had regaled him with stories of their youth. They had saved the crux of the conversation for last.
Flaming red hair bounced and flickered in the light as Lily dismally nodded, her white tea-length dress flowing around her like water around a rock. The thought of her precious son going through more trials and tribulations gave her no joy.
Harry's face turned defiant as thought about the situation.
"But I want to stay here... with you guys."
"I'm sorry Harry; your life has always had hardship, but there is no choice in the matter," James tiredly replied, taking Harry's hand in his. Lily and Sirius both joined in and put their hands on Harry's, their warmth both soft and comforting.
All of a sudden, a loud gong resonated in the air and echoed around the train station. The Hogwarts Express suddenly roared into action as it starting to move as the walls begun crashing down around it. The place was falling apart as fate itself ripped a hole through reality.
Similar to Albus earlier, their skin started to turn glassy and see-through.
"No, I want to stay," Harry pleaded again in terror as they started fading away. He had only just met his parents and the thought of leaving them a second time sent waves of despair through him.
"We will meet again soon enough, you'll see. We will always love you, remember that Harry," Lily said tenderly as their hands were still on his.
James and Sirius looked at him, as debris rained down on them but harmlessly passing through them.
"Make me proud son," James said with heart-warming smile on his face.
"Pup, you take care," Sirius finished as he gave his trademark wink, both of their hands still on his.
The warmth Harry once felt was fading fast as he tried to grab their hands once more, but ended up with nothing but silver mist percolating through his hands. As he tried to cry out one more time, he failed to notice an enormous stone dropping dislodge itself from the ceiling and fall straight towards his head.
The last image he saw was three smiling faces melting away, each one showing nothing but raw emotion. As the boulder was just about to hit Harry, he felt strangely calm, as if he knew with absolute certainty that he would once again see them.
"…-ould be dead if she wasn't found sooner Albus, we have to thank Hagrid for saving this young girls life. Thi-..."
"…-hat she is very likely to wake up soon, I had to visit St. Mungo's for help with some of these curses…"
Harry slipped in and out of consciousness for a few days, hearing bits and pieces of conversations, before his mind registered his need to wake up. When he finally was ready, he opened his eyes, only to wince and shut them again quickly due to the harsh glare of bright lights. He groaned with amusement as he realized he had experienced so many of these scenarios recently.
His groan sounded a bit off but didn't pay any attention to it as he opened his eyes and blinked, trying to reach for his glasses. After a few seconds he realized with astonishment that he could see with absolute clarity without the need for glasses.
Curiously, he sat up and turned his head from left to right in an owl-like fashion to decipher where he was. With a jolt, he realised that he was in the empty hospital wing in Hogwarts, tucked under a thin white blanket while wearing a white hospital gown.
Beside his bed there was a crumpled newspaper from the Daily Prophet, with obvious signs that it had been previously read. He reached over and picked it up with both hands and squinted in confusion as his eyes were drawn first to the date.
1976, did they get the date wrong? It should be 1996. That's 20 years ago.
As his brain was catching up with the situation, he noticed how thin his arms were as they clutched the newspaper. Harry was by no means large or bulky but the willowy size was too unnaturally small. This set some alarms bells off in his head.
As he glanced down to read the article on the front page, his eyes widened when a swathe of jet black hair tumbled down from the top his head, coming to a stop just below his navel. Caught by surprise, he yelped and instinctively tried to leap out of the hospital bed, but failed as the blanket was holding him in place.
An explosion of unbearable pain in his back caused him to scream in pain, as if there was an ever-burning fire blazing, burning and spreading all across him. With fingers digging into his palms, tears fell down his eyes as the pain hit in new waves as he lay down on his side, which caused him to bite his lips so hard they bled.
Just as the pain was about to overpower him and render him unconscious, a fuzzy figure rushed over to him only to hastily shove a potion down his raw throat and cast minor healing charms on his palms and lips where the skin was torn.
After a good second, all the pain vanished as swiftly as it came, leaving Harry to tiredly fall back down in bed as the empty vial fell softly on the bed.
A soft and welcoming voice floated through the air as a young Madam Pomfrey's face swam into view, concern etched upon it.
"Are you in still in pain dear?"
Still dazed, he shook his head.
"It's a blessing that you woke up this early into the treatment; you need to be awake to ingest some of these numbing and skin reparation potions ," The Mediwitch said with a sigh of relief as she readied more potions for consumption.
As memories of what the two madmen did to him in Lucius' house flooded back, he clenched his teeth and shuddered in fear, wondering what sort of magic they could have used to turn his figure into something so different.
"M-mirror, I need a mirror please," Harry whispered, his voice strangely high and shrill but he was too worn out to care.
"Potions first," The Mediwitch argued briskly, as she handed him a tray with an array of differently shaped vials, each one filled with liquids swirling around with different viscosities. Not recognizing any of them – as potions wasn't his strongest subject; he conceded and gulped down all of them, one after the other, grimacing periodically as some tasted worse than the Polyjuice Potion he drank in his second year.
"Now, if you can stand, I'll take you to a mirror." Poppy said in a much gentler tone as she put the tray with the vials away and proffered her right hand to him. Harry shyly smiled and locked hands with her as he felt no pain at all, even when the balls of his feet bounced on the floor as he got out of the bed.
Harry was dumbfounded. He had never seen the Mediwitch interact like this to anyone in that sort of tone or manner, despite frequenting the hospital wing every year for six years.
As they reached a full body mirror in the corner of the hospital wing, Harry let out a shaky breath, as a stranger stared back at him with sparkling and vivid green eyes. He let go of Poppy's hand as studied his reflection anxiously.
Long and shiny black hair cascaded elegantly from the top of his head, past a soft and round head, pert nose and red lips, down to his midriff. Pale and creamy skin, that showed no signs of scaring or damage, seemed to shine ethereally, even in the presence of the bright lights. His lithe figure complemented by his short stature, along with his wide eyes, framed by thick black eyelashes, showed promise of an unmatched beauty in the future.
A girl. Fate turned me into a girl.
Harry's face reddened as he hesitated to perform the next action, simply because someone was watching. Shaking his head in defeat because he realized Poppy was most likely the one who undressed him. He slowly unfastened the hospital gown at his nape and let it fall to his waist as he saw the product of his stay at Malfoy Manor.
Countless thin white scars overlapped with each other on his flat chest, as pink and ragged looking ones intersected them at an oblique angle. Harry shivered as he recalled them experimenting one night with an enchanted pair of scissors. As he turned around to view his back, he looked over his shoulder only to find black scars in a criss-cross manner that seemed to glow and pulsate with dark magic.
Poppy's face held a look of undying pity.
"The pain will fade eventually and some of the scars will heal… however some might not," She delicately revealed, trying not to frighten the young girl in front of her.
"In regards to the scars on your back, regular doses of the Anti-Mordant Potion that our resident potion master, Professor Slughorn has created in the short time you have been here, should eliminate the lingering magic."
Harry wasn't listening. His brain was busy churning out ideas at a frightening speed; a speed that he didn't even know was possible.
Harry was by no means a stupid person. His scores for exams weren't the highest because he had always emulated Ron's characteristics of laziness. He didn't want to lose the friendship he had with the first friend he made, so he made sure that he copied Ron's idle disposition so Ron would always see companionship with him. Harry actually had a very cunning and intelligent side to him. If Draco Malfoy had not interacted with him and Ron in his first year, he would have without a doubt ended up in Slytherin.
Everything adds up now. I've been sent 20 years into the past with another chance to defeat Voldemort. I will not fail anyone, not this time.
Poppy regarded the young girl as she quietly stopped looking at the mirror to fasten her hospital gown back up.
"I will not ask you anything nor force you to say something you don't want," Poppy started, sympathy filling her voice.
"But I just want to ask one question. You can stay silent if you want," She continued.
"What is your name?"
Harry violently started and looked at the Mediwitch in consternation as he mind went blank.
All of a sudden, as if a light was turned on in his head, he replied with conviction as a soft lilting voice carried around the entire room.
"Ariana… My name is Ariana."
A/N: Now that I've got the whole story mapped out in my head, writing this is three times quicker! Any sort of criticisms for loopholes, plot, grammar, or characters is greaty appreciated if you have any!
